The Calm Before the Storm.
by Penelope Clearwater
Summary: *Chapter 6 is up - Draco is forced to make the hardest decision of his life* The summer between GoF and OoTP. Dark plots, difficult choices, potions, betrayal and more. R/R and enjoy.
1. Mrs Weasel.

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THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

By Penelope Clearwater

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A/N: This is a story that I'm very much enjoying working on at the moment. It starts immediately after GoF ends and it's basically going to tell the story of the summer between GoF and OoTP, starting off with Harry but then branching out to show other characters too. There'll be Remus, Sirius, Severus and more…it promises to be a life-changing summer for Harry.

Hope you enjoy it…reviews welcome…go on!

Maybe the summer won't be quite as bad as Harry thinks it's going to be…..

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CHAPTER ONE: Mrs Weasley.

Harry trudged miserably after Uncle Vernon, ideas flitting through his mind…ridiculous, implausible, impossible ideas…. maybe he could find himself a nice cardboard box and camp out at King's Cross for the entire summer….it'd probably be more comfortable than staying at Privet Drive for the next few months. Above all however, he couldn't stop thinking about recent events…his parents, Voldemort…Cedric. Harry was so lost in these troubled thoughts that at first, he thought he was imagining the voice calling his Uncles name. But apparently not…it grew stronger, more insistent.

"Mr Dursley…. Excuse me…. MR DURSLEY!"

Harry turned around, surprised and saw the welcome sight of Mrs Weasley barging through the crowd towards them, her handbag swinging dangerously all the while. She was pushing her way persistently through the throng of people, her strange attire earning her many a suspicious glance. People were edging away from her warily, muttering amongst themselves about wanting to stay clear of that type of people. Mrs Weasley eventually drew level with Harry and Uncle Vernon, panting and very nearly knocking out a small muggle child with her bag. The rest of the Weasley family were behind her, looking somewhat bemused. Uncle Vernon tutted loudly and very obviously rolled his eyes rudely as he recognised the Weasley's.

"What on EARTH is it, Mrs Weasel?" he snapped impatiently.

"It's WEASLEY." Shouted Fred loudly.

"Yeah…W-E-A-S-L-E-Y." bellowed Ron, equally loudly.

"Be quiet you two!" Mrs Weasley exclaimed exasperatedly, narrowing her eyes at them.

Uncle Vernon looked down his large, purple nose nastily at Mrs Weasley. "Did you want something?" 

Mrs Weasley started to dig around in her handbag.

"Yes…dear me, I nearly forgot…. letter for you from Albus…. he gave it to me this morning with strict instructions to pass it on as soon as I saw you….I can't believe I nearly forgot it. Now…where on earth is it?"

Uncle Vernon tapped his foot impatiently as she continued to dig in her bag, bringing out all manner of strange things…a spell book, half an old wand, some chocolate frogs and a large potion bottle until eventually she drew out a rather crumpled envelope on the front of which was inscribed 'For the attention of Mr. V. Dursley. Urgent' in delicate silver ink.

"It's from Professor Dumbledore." Mrs Weasley said, beginning to regain her breath. "He is the headmaster of….."

"I know who he is!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed nervously, evidently not wanting Mrs Weasley to elaborate anymore, in a public place. He snatched the letter ungratefully.

"Now look Mr Dursley!" exclaimed Mrs Weasley. "Whatever your opinion of Albus, it is paramount that you READ this letter and follow the instructions in in. You MUST take Harry straight home and he must remain there. It's vital for your nephew's safety…. have you any idea what he has been through recently?" She looked fondly at Harry, who tried to smile back.

Uncle Vernon scoffed loudly and muttered something about 'a load of stuff and nonsense'.

"Now look here!" said Mrs Weasley shrilly. "You must do as the letter says! Every witch and wizard knows that you-know-who…."

"Yes, well, thank you Mrs Weasel." Shouted Uncle Vernon loudly. Passers-by were starting to look at them strangely now and he clearly didn't want to be associated with the Weasley's a moment longer. "Goodbye!"

With that, he turned around and sped off in the opposite direction. Harry tried to smile at the Weasley's. "I better go…." He said quietly.

Mrs Weasley grabbed him before he could go on and hugged him so tightly that he had difficulty breathing.

"Oh Harry….take care of yourself won't you dear?" she said, releasing him reluctantly.

"Yeah…I will." Harry replied. He gave a wave to the rest of the Weasley's and then headed after his Uncle without a back-ward glance. If he looked over his shoulder, he couldn't trust himself not to cry.

*

Harry caught up with Uncle Vernon in the car park. He found him standing beside a litter bin, tearing up the un-opened letter and cursing violently. Uncle Vernon flung the letter in the bin, turned, rounded on Harry and started shouting, his massive purple face mere inches from his nephews.

"NOW….we'll see if some demented old idiot who teaches third-rate magic tricks is going to tell me how to run MY life! Head straight home indeed! HA!"

He smirked nastily at Harry who blinked back at him…unsure if he was hearing correctly.

"Now hurry up boy!" he bellowed, flecks of spit landing on Harry's face. "Get your stuff to the car….your Aunt and Dudley are waiting….we've wasted enough time talking to that stupid, fat woman!"

Harry bristled with anger and struggled to keep his voice calm.

"Why are Aunt Petunia and Dudley here?"

"Idiot boy…we're going shopping."

Harry raised his eyebrows incredulously….had Uncle Vernon heard nothing that Mrs Weasley had said? His Uncle evidently interpreted Harry's expression somewhat differently as he snorted loudly.

"You're not going! I don't care what you do now, but you'll be back here at the end of the afternoon or we'll be going without you! Now come on…get your stuff in the car and get lost!"

Dumbfounded, Harry loaded his belongings into the boot of the Dursley's gleaming red estate car and watched, as if in a daze as they drove off. Harry gazed at the car until it faded out of sight, with Dudley pulling faces at him out of the back window.

Harry felt suddenly panicked. If Dumbledore had said he should go straight to Privet Drive, there must be a very good reason why. He felt nervous and jumpy and he began viewing every passer-by with suspicion.

Wiping his sweaty forehead with a shaking hand, he tried to pull himself together. There was only one thing for it. Feeling the hot summer sun beating mercilessly down on the back of his neck, he headed in what he hoped was the direction of the only place in London he knew…._Diagon Alley._

*

Exactly how he found his way to Diagon Alley, Harry would never be sure. Perhaps fate did have a hand in it because he had never before found his way there by himself. All he knew was that he had never felt more relieved in his life than when he was finally standing outside the tiny, dusty pub he knew so well, bearing the sign '_THE LEAKY CAULDRON'._

Pushing the old-fashioned swing door open, Harry was glad to escape the glaring sunlight. The pub was gloomy, cool and somehow very comforting. It was much quieter than he had previously known it. The dozen or so customers chatted quietly among themselves, a far cry from the usual jovial pub atmosphere. It seemed that news of recent events at Hogwarts had travelled fast. Swallowing hard and trying not to think about Cedric, Harry made his way to the bar and cleared his throat. Tom the owner turned round on hearing the noise.

"Hi Tom." Harry said listlessly. "Can I have a butterbeer please?"

"Hello Harry!" exclaimed Tom. "What brings you….." the barman trailed off, his eyes opening wide as if in dreadful recognition. "Oh my GOD! Harry…..what on earth…..you shouldn't be….it's not safe….come here."

Feeling confused and alarmed, Harry obediently followed Tom behind the bar and back into the hallway beyond, trying to ignore the curious stares of the other customers. Tom beckoned him into a cosy sitting room, lined with comfy-looking arm-chairs and with a crackling fire in the middle.

"Sit here and drink this." Tom said, handing him a bottle of butterbeer. "And don't move a muscle….I have to send word to Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore? Why? What's going on?"

"Just wait here Harry…please….I won't be long."

With that, Tom left hurriedly. Harry sighed and sank down into one of the squishy arm-chairs. Despite the heat of the day, the fire was comforting and he soon found himself drifting into a troubled doze.

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A/N: That's all for now….second chapter should be up very soon…it just needs to be typed up. Please read and review….I'll gladly return the favour!

Disclaimer: You know the drill….none of the characters belong to me (unfortunately)…but you knew that anyway so enjoy!


	2. Tom and Mortiana.

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A/N: Firstly, thanks everyone for the reviews, glad you've enjoyed it so far….I should hopefully have some individual replies to reviews up at the end of this chapter….if I ever get round to it! Ok, enough from me, here's chapter two.

Disclaimer: As you all know perfectly well I am sure, none of these characters belong to me, they are all the creation of the God-like JK Rowling to whom I am eternally grateful for creating the wonderful world of Harry Potter.

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CHAPTER TWO

Many miles away, Albus Dumbledore was sitting at his desk in his homely circular office at Hogwarts. Deep in thought, he was slowly flicking through a large, leather-bound book, taking notes on a thick piece of parchment as he worked. He was so deeply engrossed in what he was doing that it took him a few minutes to register the knocking at the window. Dumbledore heaved himself wearily out of his chair and crossed to the window slowly, flinging it open wide. A rush of warm summer air hit his face and he inhaled deeply as in flew a glossy black raven, clutching a letter.

"Mortiana…" Dumbledore murmured, a slight smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Long time no see, my old friend…how is dear Tom?" 

Mortiana gave him an appraising look, but allowed him to stroke her feathers gently as he took the letter that she clutched in her claws and unrolled it swiftly. His learned face wrinkled in anger as he read.

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Dear Albus;

In accordance with your request that I inform you immediately on noticing anything out of the ordinary, I have sent Mortiana with this message. At this very moment, Harry Potter is sitting in my back room. It is evidently very unsafe for him to be away from home at this time and I thought it best to seek your advice regarding what to do. I trust that I find you well and I await your reply.

Regards

Tom.

In an uncharacteristic moment of anger Dumbledore was unable to stop himself from scrunching the parchment up in his fist.

"Damn you Dursley….you have no idea what you could have done do you? Do you even care? I somehow doubt it." He muttered under his breath, his face contorted in anger.

"Alright Mortiana, thank you." He said, regaining his composure somewhat. "Return to Tom now….there is no need for me to send a message with you….this must be dealt with."

Mortiana seemed to understand this as she clipped his finger affectionately with her beak before taking off again out of the window into the late-afternoon Scottish sunshine.

Pulling his dark blue travelling cloak around his shoulders, Dumbledore scrawled a hurried message on a piece of parchment, leaving it on his desk.

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Minerva;

I have departed to Diagon Alley. What we discussed has unfortunately come to pass. Perhaps you would be good enough to send word to Harry's Uncle and Aunt. I believe you know what to say, I trust your judgement. I think you also know who else to contact. Ask him to be ready this evening…send Fawkes.

Regards

Albus.

With that, Dumbledore removed the lid from an ornately carved red dish on his desk and took a pinch of the brightly-coloured powder that lay inside. Crossing quickly to the hissing magical fire at one side of the room, he flung the floo powder into the flames, stepped in after it and with a cry of "The Leaky Cauldron!" he was gone.

*

Harry was still slumbering uneasily in the cosy back room at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom sat quietly in a chair opposite, watching his troubled expression with a slight frown upon his face. The heat from the fire was becoming over-powering and so, loosening his collar, Tom reached behind his chair and slid open the large window carefully. Unassuming muggles could be heard chattering and laughing in the street beyond. Tom sighed and pushed his greying hair out of his eyes with a tired hand. It wasn't often that any witch or wizard found themselves envying muggles but in troubled times like these….perhaps they _were_ better off – blissfully unaware of what likely lay ahead.

Seemingly hearing the noises outside, Harry started violently in his sleep.

"No…no….not Cedric! NO…Mum…Dad…."

Harry trailed off and sat bolt upright in his chair, staring wildly around and sweating profusely. Tom looked at him pityingly and seemed to be having difficulty thinking of something to say.

"Shhh….it's ok Harry…you're safe here….I've sent all the other customers home….no one can touch you here…don't worry." He said in what he obviously thought was a soothing tone, patting Harry's arm awkwardly.

"Tom…what's going on?" Harry said blearily, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his fist.

Tom seemed to be keen to avoid the question…he rose out of his chair and began pacing the room, a worried expression on his face, but Harry was keen to push the point.

"Tom? Please…what's happening…I don't get it." Harry said, more insistently this time, he was feeling slightly more awake.

"It's not safe for you to be here Harry….I don't know much more than you do. I've let Dumbledore know you are here, he'll know what to do…Mortiana should be back soon with his reply." Tom said somewhat reluctantly.

"Mortiana?"

"My raven." Tom smiled fondly.

A raven? Harry thought questioningly to himself. He'd never heard of anyone who used a raven to deliver their letters before. He gave an involuntary shudder….thinking that he'd definitely be sticking to owls…ravens gave him the creeps somehow. Especially one with a name like Mortiana.

Noticing Harry's expression Tom smiled gently.

"I know what you're thinking, but more wizards use ravens than you may think…they're highly loyal and much faster than owls, it's just because of their appearance that they have a bad name for themselves."

Harry still looked wary but he had no time to question Tom further because at that moment the fire flared up violently, causing both of them to jump. A second later, the flames surged up even more, it looked as if they were going to jump out of the fire-place and into the room, they were so ferocious. From the midst of the fire Albus Dumbldore appeared, looking thorougly non-plussed. He quickly strode out of the licking flames and into the room, looking more business-like than Harry had ever seen him.

"Albus!" Tom exclaimed, looking thoroughly taken-aback. "I didn't expect you here….at least…not so soon!"

Dumbledore smiled kindly, an odd expression on his face that Harry could not interpret.

"You underestimate I think, the seriousness of the situation….no matter." He placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and extended his other one in greeting. "You did the right thing in sending word to me so quickly old friend, for that I am grateful."

Tom shook Dumbledores hand firmly still looking somewhat bewildered, as if he didn't really understand what was going on. Releasing Tom's hand quickly, Dumbledore turned his attention to Harry and regarded him seriously.

"You are alright Harry?" he enquired gently.

Harry nodded, he was unable to speak for some reason, his throat felt the same way that it had the time Dudley and his gang had pinned him down and forced him to eat three packets of dry cream crackers….itchy, sore and raw.

"I thought not somehow." Dumbledore said perceptively. "But there is no need to worry any longer, you have been through quite enough in the last few weeks…I will take care of the situation from here."

Harry looked up at him dazedly, feeling as if someone had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. Whenever Dumbledore was around he had the glorious impression that nothing could go too badly wrong. Despite his great age, Dumbledore exerted a quiet energy at all times which was somehow extremely reassuring. The only other person that Harry had ever felt this safe around was Sirius but Harry couldn't allow himself to think about Sirius….he felt sure that he would burst into tears if he did.

Tom was leaning against the wall, looking thoroughly awkward and out of place as if he felt he shouldn't be in the room any longer. He cleared his throat loudly as if to remind them that he was still there.

Dumbledore turned to face him and smiled kindly again. 

"I wonder if you would be so kind as to prepare a small meal for Harry and I?" Dumbledore said. "It would be a great help if we could eat here before returning to Hogwarts….that would ensure that Minerva had ample time to make all the necessary arrangements."

"I'm going to Hogwarts?" Harry exclaimed, his heart lifting in spite of how he was feeling inside.

"Yes…but not for long, no indeed. I have something in mind that I think will meet with your approval." There was a hint of the familiar twinkle in Dumbledores eye as he spoke.

Harry sank back down in his chair slowly…he was starting to feel giddy.

"I'll just go and…errr….well….prepare some food for you then shall I Albus….steak and kidney pie and roast potatoes alright for you?" Tom exclaimed, sounding more awkward than ever and looking desperate to be given an excuse to leave the room.

"Splendid." Dumbledore said appreciatively and Harry found himself nodding his head listlessly as the headmaster regarded him evenly. He didn't care what Tom brought for him to eat, he was sure that he would be sick if he attempted to swallow even a mouthful of it…his throat still felt like sand-paper.

"Right you are." Tom said, hurrying gratefully from the room.

Dumbldore waited until Tom's footsteps had stopped echoing down the wooded floor of the hall outside before going to the heavy oak door and checking that it was clicked shut.

"Now Harry." He said softly. "It is high time that you had an explanation."

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A/N: Ok, that's Chapter 2. Chapter 3 should be up very soon as I'm not busy at the moment and I have a lot of time to write. I'm planning to dedicate the next few chapters mainly to Harry but then I'll move on to other characters, however as this is primarily about Harry, I will keep referring back to him. Keep reading and reviewing everyone!

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	3. Cake will have to wait.

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CHAPTER 3

Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall climbed the stairs leading to Dumbledores office wearily. Her appearance was as immaculate as ever, her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun and she was dressed in spotless black robes. On closer inspection however, her face looked different, she definitely had more lines around her eyes and she looked older somehow, as though the last few weeks had aged her by several years. Of course, it had not been an easy few weeks. Reaching the top of the curved staircase (which seemed to take much longer than usual), she rapped softly on the heavy wooden door.

"Albus?" She called. "Would you care to come down and eat with us now? Poppy has made some of your favourite plum cake…. she'll be disappointed if you won't come down for a slice. Albus?"

She frowned slightly at the lack of response and paused briefly before turning the large brass doorknob hesitantly. The door creaked open noisily.

"Albus?"

McGonagall entered the room and glanced around, quickly realising that the Headmaster was no-where to be seen. The only occupant in sight was Fawkes, the magnificent Phoenix who gazed calmly at her as she crossed quickly to Dumbledores ornately carved oak desk. Her fingers were trembling slightly in spite of herself as she picked up the thick sheaf of parchment that Dumbledore had left. Scanning the page quickly with her sharp eyes, her face contorted in anger and two bright pink blotches appeared on her cheekbones. This was known by all of the students as a distinct warning sign, most of them knew better than to cross an angry Professor McGonagall, her reputation as one of the strictest teachers in the school was not entirely undeserved.

"Foolish muggle!" She exclaimed fiercely, closing her eyes briefly as though in utter disbelief at what she was reading. "I would not have believed anyone would be so short-sighted…not even you, Dursley." McGonagall continued to herself, her voice harsh, full of venom.

She shook her head quickly, as if trying to regain a clear mind before turning and heading towards the door.

"Come Fawkes." She said, clucking softly to him.

The Phoenix obediently stretched it's wings and took to the air calmly, following her from the room As she reached the bottom of the curved staircase McGonagall called loudly.

"Poppy? Could you go to the Owlery please and bring one of the fastest owls to my office immediately. We have work to do." She paused briefly before adding wryly. "The cake will have to wait."

*

Back at The Leaky Cauldron, Dumbledore regarded Harry carefully down his crooked nose as he began to speak.

"Harry…you cannot go back to Privet Drive this summer…if ever. Although it would be the safest place for you to be, unfortunately your Uncle cannot be relied upon to ensure that you remain there…the events of this afternoon have made that all too clear. I am sorry this has happened, sorry indeed. I do not think you know Harry, why it is that you are so well protected while you remain in Privet Drive? Perhaps even better protected than when you are at Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head slowly, feeling confused. His mind felt fluffy, dull and useless, as if his brain had been removed and replaced with a great lump of marshmallow.

Dumbledore looked at Harry, apparently concerned for a moment before continuing in his level voice.

"When you first went to stay there, I arranged for one of my most trusted, most learned friends to move in nearby. Together we performed complicated, ancient magical rituals, so complex that I fear I could not explain them to you now, even if I thought it would be helpful. These rituals ensured that in the unfortunate event of Voldemort returning to power he would be unable to touch you there – as long as you remain at Privet Drive you are as well protected against Dark magic as it is possible to be." He paused for what seemed like a very long time before he spoke again. "The name of that trusted colleague is Arabella Figg."

For a second, Harry stared blankly back at Dumbledore, not registering what he had just heard. His head felt heavier than ever and he gawped at the Headmaster stupidly, his mouth open slightly as he tried to think. There was something familiar here, something he had heard before…many, many times. All at once, realisation dawned on him, hitting him smack in the face and his eyes widened in disbelief.

"You can't mean….not….not…Mrs Figg?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly but there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

"But…but." Harry stammered, utterly dumbfounded. "She can't be a witch!"

"I assure you Harry, she is…and one of the finest witches I have ever had the pleasure of knowing." Dumbledore said gently.

"But she smells of cats all the time! She's mad…" Harry stopped abruptly and felt his cheeks redden. He had just accused one of Dumbledores greatest friends of being smelly and mad! Nothing that he said now could salvage the situation. He looked almost fearfully up at the Headmaster, expecting a reprimand but Dumbledore merely chuckled softly.

"I am sure your description would amuse Arabella." He chuckled again on noticing Harry's alarmed expression. "Do not worry Harry…we have both been called far worse in our time!" He tapped his chin with his finger. "She has an affinity with cats you say? Funny that you should notice that…funny indeed." For a moment he appeared to be going to elaborate but he apparently thought better of it and remained quiet for a few minutes.

Harry used the lull in conversation to sit back in his chair, relieved but still disbelieving. Mrs Figg was a witch? But she was the most un-magical seeming person he had ever encountered…apart from the Dursley's of course. It seemed so ridiculous that if anyone other than Dumbledore had told him, he would have laughed in their face. 

"Anyway…amusing as it may be to discuss the sanity of my colleagues, we digress." Dumbledore went on. "As I have now explained…you are protected very deeply, so long as you remain at your relatives home, near Arabella. I did not envisage that the journey home from Hogwarts today would pose a problem. Although you are not protected during this journey, I did not believe that Lord Voldemort would have devised a strong enough plan to pose you realistic danger during it. However, after a rather disturbing dream last night, I decided to take the added precaution of penning a letter to your Uncle, outlining the situation and urging him to return home with you immediately. I enlisted the help of Molly Weasley to ensure that he received the letter. I thought perhaps he would not take it too seriously if you were to give it to him."

"He didn't read it anyway." Harry said bitterly.

Dumbledore regarded Harry carefully again.

"I admit, I underestimated Mr Dursley's naivety. I know of course that he does not approve of the wizarding world but still…I did not believe that his narrow-mindedness would cause him to endanger you. I believed that your safety was sufficiently important to him that he would heed my warning. I was evidently wrong."

"He'd be happier if I WAS dead…they all would." Harry said quietly, not looking Dumbledore in the face.

The Headmaster looked steadily at Harry for a moment, an un-readable expression on his face but he did not make any reply to Harry's sorry statement.

"I realise now that although it would be the best option for you to return to your relatives, it is not going to work. Thankfully I had the presence of mind to prepare for this eventuality, much as I hoped I would not need to. As we speak, Professor McGonagall will be finalising the arrangements. Do not worry Harry, everything is in hand."

Harry opened his mouth to speak. There were a million questions buzzing around his brain that he was desperate to ask but he didn't even know where to begin. He was prevented from speaking however, by a knock at the door.

"Errr…. The food is ready now Albus." Came Tom's voice, slightly muffled by the thick wood of the door.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore exclaimed, holding up a hand to show Harry not to say anything. "Come in Tom! We must eat quickly…then we leave for Hogwarts!"

*

Leaning on her desk, Minerva McGonagall rested her head in her hands and massaged her temples slowly with her fingertips, sighing to herself. Poppy Pomfrey glanced up from her seat by the window, concerned.

"Are you alright Minerva?" She enquired softly.

McGonagall raised her head, looking somewhat more ruffled than usual - several hairs had worked there way free from her tight bun - she also looked slightly surprised to hear Poppy's voice, almost as if she had forgotten that she was not the only person in the room.

"Yes, yes…I'm…fine, fine…it's just..well, you know."

Poppy nodded sympathetically.

"Yes..troubled times, troubled times." She smiled wryly. "However, it does not do to dwell on it…our main concern now has to be Harry."

"I know that." McGonagall replied in her clipped Scots voice.

"Have you finished the letters?" Poppy asked, pushing one of her unruly red curls behind her ear impatiently.

"Yes." Minerva sighed, glancing down at the two pieces of parchment on the desk in front of her. "Informing Harry's Aunt and Uncle…that was the difficult part - In the end I decided it best to send an owl to Arabella and ask her to go round and explain to the Dursley's."

Poppy looked stunned.

"Are you sure that is wise Minerva? Can you imagine what they will say when they find out that she is a witch?"

"I know." Minerva closed her eyes briefly. "But at least we know they will get the message this way - if we were to send the owl directly to the Dursley's, it would be all too easy for them just to ignore it."

"You are right of course, as always." Poppy smiled. "But I'll tell you one thing, I don't envy Arabella that job, do you?"

McGonagall allowed herself a small, reluctant smile before her expression turned sombre again.

"The other letter is ready too…I am sorry to have to send it, although I believe he will not be too surprised when it arrives. All the same…it does complicate matters somewhat."

Poppy pursed her lips.

"Are you sure that this is the best place to send Harry? Circumstances being what they are, I mean?"

McGonagall looked troubled and smoothed the sleeve of her emerald-green robes before replying.

"To be honest with you, I am far from convinced. However, Albus feels it is by far the best option and who are we to question Albus? I do believe that he is arranging added protection for Harry as well, so I suppose we must just trust his judgement and hope for the best."

With that, she handed the first letter to a large tawny owl which was sitting on the desk.

"Take this to Arabella Figg immediately please." She instructed. The owl hooted in response and took off out of the window into the balmy early evening.

McGonagall then turned to Fawkes who was perched delicately on a shelf full of books, watching the situation unfold calmly.

"Fawkes." She said quietly, placing the second letter in his beak, somewhat reluctantly. "I need you to take this to Remus Lupin." She sighed. "I hope he is ready to welcome his new house guest."

Fawkes uttered a note of Phoenix song as if in response, which quavered soothingly in the air before disappearing. As the note faded, Fawkes seemed to be doing the same and within the blink of an eye he had vanished completely.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed it, if anyone has any questions just leave them in your review and I'll try to answer them! Thank you all for the lovely reviews. More soon.


	4. The cottage by the sea.

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CHAPTER FOUR

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Remus Lupin sighed heavily in his armchair by the window of his tiny cottage, located in a hidden location on a rural stretch of the Cornish coast. He was tired, yet he did not think that he would be able to sleep. He had had trouble sleeping for the past few weeks – as had many – his mind had simply been too full of thoughts. His heart still skipped a beat when he considered just how dangerously close they had come to losing Harry. A loud snore invaded his thoughts and he allowed his gaze to drift to the sofa, where the slumbering form of Sirius Black lay, covered lightly by a patchwork quilt. Sirius still looked extremely thin but his good-looking face was peaceful and serene. Remus smiled to himself and murmured. "It seems that some of us are not troubled by insomnia."

Rising quietly from his chair, being careful not to rouse his companion, Remus crept quietly from the sitting room and down the hall into the cosy kitchen. This room, like the rest of the comfortable cottage was simply furnished and suited Remus down to the ground. It was modest and unassuming yet at the same time tasteful and interesting – very much like Remus' personality. Running a hand through his greying hair wearily, Remus carefully took a delicate china teapot down from a shelf and busied himself making tea – something he enjoyed doing the muggle way, he always swore it tasted better made this way, as opposed to when it was made by magic. It always felt good to be doing _something – _even something as mundane as preparing tea. He found it helped him remain sane somehow. Bending down, Remus opened a cupboard and took out two matching china cups, smiling slightly to himself as he did so. Sirius always made fun of him for using matching china – he said that he was turning into an old woman. Remus enjoyed teasing Sirius in return by saying that Sirius simply couldn't appreciate these things because he was more used to lapping from a plastic dog bowl. All joking aside, Remus was very glad to have his friend staying with him. He knew that he had a tendency to be too serious, too quiet – a little bit of a loner. Sirius was very good for him, reminding him to kick back, relax and have fun – just as he always had at school – along with James of course.

Remus was interrupted from these nostalgic thoughts by the sound of Sirius' voice calling sharply from the sitting room.

"Remus! REMUS! Put that damned teapot down and come here now! We've got company."

Remus chuckled at Sirius' perceptive remark about the teapot. He is getting to know me too well! He thought, amused.

"REMUS!" Came the voice again, even more insistently.

Disconcerted – and somewhat alarmed – by the uncharacteristically sharp tone of his friends' voice, Remus stopped what he was doing and headed back down the corridor hastily, a hint of a frown on his face.

"What is it Si? What do you mean we've got company…. No-one came to the door."

Sirius did not reply. As Remus entered the room he saw that his friend was sitting tensely on the edge of the sofa, his hands clasped together tightly, his knuckles white and his face strained. One glance at the coffee table told Remus why. Fawkes, Dumbledores resplendent phoenix was sitting in the centre of the polished wooden table, looking thoroughly unconcerned *. Sirius ran a hand through his shoulder-length black hair.

"You know why he's here don't you? Dumbledore wouldn't have sent him unless – something has happened hasn't it? To Harry."

Remus closed his eyes momentarily and bit his lip.

"We don't know that Si… it might be… errr…" He trailed off, failing miserable to sound reassuring.

"Might be what Remus?" Sirius snapped angrily. "He'd hardly have sent Fawkes here on this God-forsaken evening to bring us a bloody post-card would he?"

Remus sighed. "Well no – but getting angry about it is not going to benefit anyone, is it?"

"Angry? Who's angry?" Sirius fairly shouted. "Not me anyway – I'm perfectly calm." He sounded anything but.

"Look… let's just read the letter." Remus walked over and gently took the scroll of parchment from Fawkes who regarded him rather haughtily – almost as if he were a naughty two-year-old.

Remus found himself chuckling in spite of the situation. "Same old Fawkes anyway – you know best don't you?" He said fondly, stroking the birds' magnificent plumage. 

Sirius cleared his throat loudly; quite clearly stating that he thought Remus should hurry up and read. Taking the hint, Remus obediently unrolled the parchment and read aloud.

__

Dear Remus and Sirius;

I trust that this finds you both well. Unfortunately, what Albus discussed with Remus prior to the end of term will have to be implemented immediately. Earlier today, Harry's Uncle allowed him to wander around muggle London alone…

On hearing this, Sirius leapt from his seat, looking murderous.

"WHAT?!" He bellowed. "Dursley you fool! If I ever get near you, I'll wring your neck with my bare hands, I'll…"

It was Remus' turn to clear his throat pointedly. Sirius quietened obediently as his friend read on.

__

Please do not worry too much. Thankfully, Harry found his way to The Leaky Cauldron and Tom contacted Albus who is with him now. Harry will however, have to come to stay with you for the rest of the summer, as discussed. If you could be at Hogwarts tonight at 9pm, Harry will be here. Dumbledore has asked me to request that Sirius does not come – it is simply not worth the risk as he is meant to be lying low.

Yours,

Minerva McGonagall.

Sirius was looking mutinous. "Not go? Not go? Of course I'm going… this is my god-son we're talking about – what is Dumbledore thinking?"

Remus shook his head. "Are you deaf Si? Dumbledore has told you not to go for a reason – you know yourself that you should stay here. I'm perfectly capable of bringing Harry here… it won't take long."

Sirius sighed resignedly. "I know, I know – you're right – I'll stay here, get his room ready… quite the good little house-wife." He said sarcastically.

Remus chuckled ruefully at him. "Yes…. Get your apron on!"

Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"I was joking, joking!" Remus exclaimed hurriedly. Checking the time on the slender silver watch on his wrist, he reached for the deep purple travelling cloak that was slung across the back of an arm-chair and draped it around his shoulders, fastening the silver buckle at his chest. "Right – I'd better go." He crossed to the fireplace and took a pinch of floo powder from a ceramic dish. Flinging it into the flames, he stepped in after it and cried "Hogwarts!" In an instant he was gone, leaving Sirius alone with his very confused thoughts.

*

Back at The Leaky Cauldron, Dumbledore scraped the last of his roast potatoes from the plain ceramic plate with his fork, popped it into his mouth and chewed slowly, smiling as he did so and emitting a satisfied sigh.

"Tom… I believe I have said it before but your cooking really does surpass anything I have ever tasted."

Harry nodded his agreement emphatically. In spite of himself, he had managed to eat a good portion of his dinner. Dumbledore was not exaggerating – the food had been delicious.

Tom bowed his head modestly and murmured. "Too kind Albus, too kind by far."

Dumbledore chuckled. "You never were too good at accepting compliments were you? You must work on that Tom, yes indeed." With that, the Headmaster rose slowly from his chair. "It has been a flying visit… do not wait for such unfortunate circumstances to arise before you contact me again old friend – it has been too long."

Tom crossed to Dumbledore and clasped the Professors hands warmly in his own.

"Take care Albus." He said seriously.

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly at the barman before turning to Harry.

"Ready?" He asked gently.

Harry nodded. He was eager to return to Hogwarts, the place he loved more than anywhere else in the world.

"Excellent… then we will delay no longer, follow me if you will."

Dumbledore crossed to the fireplace and swiftly departed by floo powder.

Harry started to follow him then stopped and turned to face Tom, feeling awkward all of a sudden.

"Thanks Tom… for, for... everything." He stammered.

"Don't worry about it Harry." Tom smiled. "It was nothing."

Harry grinned and headed to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of floo powder and flinging it into the flames he screwed up his face as he remembered how much he hated travelling this way. Trying not to think about it, he stepped into the fire and, with a cry of "Hogwarts!" he was whisked away.

Tom sighed with relief and began to clear up the dinner dishes, whistling softly to himself.

*

Harry kept his eyes screwed tightly shut during most of the journey, slightly nauseous at the very thought of the swirl of colour that would be engulfing him at this very minute. Feeling himself slow down slightly, Harry forced himself to pry one of his eyelids open, just in time to see a huge fireplace looming up in front of him suddenly. Panicking, Harry inhaled sharply, resulting in him getting a mouthful of soot. Before he quite realised what had happened, he found himself spread-eagled in front of the fire in Dumbledores office, coughing violently.

Quickly realising that he was the object of some very amused and curious stares, Harry struggled to his feet, dusting down his soot-encrusted robes with one hand and frantically trying to stem his coughing with the other. A few seconds later he was feeling slightly more composed and he straightened up, adjusted his glasses and squinted round at the other occupants of the office.

Professor McGonagall was standing by the window looking at him with an odd, concerned expression. Her lips were very thin and she looked almost tearful, she was fiddling nervously with her wand and she appeared to be much more on edge than Harry had ever seen her. Dumbledore on the other hand was seated at his desk, Fawkes on his lap. The Headmaster looked the picture of composure and organisation - if Harry had not seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed that Dumbledore had travelled by floo powder mere moments earlier. Looking to Dumbledores right, Harry saw that seated beside the Headmaster was;

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed in amazement, still coughing slightly.

Lupin grinned at him. "No need to call me that anymore Harry - Remus will do just fine."

"Right Prof… err, I mean Remus." Harry said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. "But… what are you doing here?"

Dumbledore chuckled gently, stroking Fawkes absent-mindedly as he spoke.

"I said Harry, did I not, that I had arranged something for you, something that I believed would meet with your approval." He paused, eyes twinkling. "Remus, perhaps you would care to explain?"

"Certainly Dumbledore… my pleasure. Harry? How do you fancy coming to stay with me for the summer? At my cottage? Someone else is already there, someone I think you'll be happy to get reacquainted with." Lupin said.

Harry was speechless. This was more than he'd dreamed of, more than he'd dared to hope for, even in his wildest dreams. Finally, his face cracked into a broad grin.

"I'd love to - I mean, if it's alright." Then Harry remembered what else Lupin said - someone that he would like to get reacquainted with? Of course….

"Sirius?" Harry croaked. "Sirius is there?" He hardly dared to meet Lupin's eyes as he waited for an answer.

"He most certainly is and I know for a fact that he's desperate to see you - he wanted to come here tonight." Lupin smiled.

Dumbledore chuckled again.

"Ah, the irrepressible Sirius… I am willing to bet that he had a vast array of things to say about me when he heard that I instructed that he was not to come to Hogwarts tonight?" He smiled.

Lupin grinned at the Headmaster. "You could say that."

Dumbledore nodded appreciatively. "And I assure you, I would not have it any other way." With that, he clapped his hands together and stood up. "Now… you really should be going, I do not want to make Sirius wait a moment longer to see you Harry."

Lupin rose from his seat and shook hands with both Dumbledore and McGonagall before turning to Harry. "Ready?" He asked.

"Yeah." Harry said, feeling slightly giddy…. He'd only just arrived!

With that, Lupin stepped into the fireplace and with a cry of "Waterow cottage!" He was gone.

Harry turned to Dumbledore. "Thanks Professor." He said, feeling suddenly shy. Dumbledore smiled kindly at him and gestured towards the sparking magical fire. Harry took the hint and left quickly as Lupin had done.

"Now Minerva." Dumbledore said quietly. "That was a good days work for both of us… I believe we deserve a treat. I wonder if Poppy has any of that delectable plum cake?"

*

When Harry tumbled out of a fireplace a few minutes later, he found himself in a cosy sitting room, decorated simply but comfortably and lined with bookshelves heaving with books of all shapes and sizes. Looking up, he saw Lupin seated in an armchair by the window and, sitting tensely on a comfy looking sofa was:

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed. He was overcome at seeing his godfather, yet he didn't seem to know what to say. Sirius seemed to suffer no such awkwardness; he leapt up and hugged Harry tightly.

"Harry…. Are you all right? I've been so… Oh, never mind. You're here now, that's all that matters."

Harry tried to reply but he suddenly felt drained and completely exhausted - as if in one fell swoop the events of the day had caught up with him. It was beginning to seem a very long time since he had left Hogwarts that morning, heading for Privet Drive. Sirius looked at him, immediately concerned.

"Right…. You're dead on your feet; time you were in bed… we can talk in the morning…. You've having my room, I'm going to sleep on the sofa."

With that he put his arm around Harry and guided him gently out of the door, up a short flight of wooden stairs and into a tiny bedroom. Harry flopped down onto the little bed in the centre of the room and pulled the duvet around himself sleepily. Sirius watched fondly for a moment as Harry fell quickly asleep, completely tired out.

Happily noting that his godsons' face looked un-troubled as he drifted into a deeper sleep, Sirius left the room, clicking the door shut softly behind him, leaving Harry to his dreams.

__

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed that chapter, just wanted to note a few points. 

Firstly, I've upped the rating of this slightly, because of a few mildly naughty words spoken by Mr. Black in this chapter (Oooh, he's a bad boy, but I do love him! ;)) And also because it would need to be upped later anyway because of darker content in chapters to come, so I thought I might as well do it now.

Secondly, if you notice the asterisk early on in the chapter (*)…I just wanted to make a point with it regarding Fawkes appearing so suddenly, to avoid any confusion. If you consult the part about the phoenix in your copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them', you'll see that it says that the phoenix can disappear and reappear at will…. I've extended this slightly to a kind of animal apparation…. So that's how he did it! He's a clever bird is our Fawkes!

Thanks as always for reading and reviewing everone, I've just got a few responses to give to individual reviewers now;

Indiana Jones - Hedwig is currently with the Dursley's who are looking at her nervously and not quite sure how to deal with her! Don't worry, I'm not going to subject her to this treatment for long, she'll be making her entrance in Chapter 5.

Constantine1453 - Thank you very much for your review, it made my day when I read it this morning!

Gryffinrose - Thanks for commenting on Mrs Weasley, I think she's really fun to write, she'll be back in future chapters.

Jennifer - Thanks for your comments on Uncle Vernon…I love writing him too and he will be back in the next chapter…along with Petunia and Dudley!

Thanks to everyone else for reading and reviewing, it's very much appreciated!

PC.


	5. A very rude awakening.

****

CHAPTER 5

The next day was Saturday. It dawned early over the whole country, the sun shining brightly from first light. Privet Drive was no different. The summer so far had been stiflingly hot by British standards and the fierce heat was showing no sign of abating. Vernon Dursley woke at the crack of dawn, as he had been doing for most of the summer. The trouble was that he simply did not do well in the heat, his vast size was largely to blame for this - due to the amount of excess weight he was lugging around with him everywhere he found it very difficult to remain cool and was forced to spend most of the day indoors, even then, uncomfortably hot. Needless to say, this did little to calm his temper, which was irritable at the best of times. He _always_ made life a misery for the people around him but in these weather conditions, he surpassed himself…. He had had his wife Petunia running ragged for weeks on end and yesterday he had given his son Dudley a good thrashing when he found him stealing a cake from the fridge. Coughing irritably, Vernon turned over in bed, thumping the pillow with his fist and trying to get more comfortable. From outside, he could hear birds chirping cheerfully… most people would have enjoyed listening to the happy sound…. Vernon Dursley however, was not most people. Bloody birds, he muttered to himself, bloody disgrace… menace to society…. Should all be shot, he murmured irrationally. The bird-song annoyed him more than usual this morning. This was largely due to the fact that it served as a painful reminder that at this very moment, a large snowy owl was sitting caged in his garden shed. He was very unsure how to deal with this bird; he had been giving the problem much consideration since the previous evening, when they had returned home without Harry. True to his word, Uncle Vernon had zoomed off in the car immediately on discovering that Harry was not there when they returned to the car park after their shopping trip. On the way home, he had treated Petunia and Dudley to a long, boring lecture about time-wasters and people who couldn't be punctual. Vernon was suddenly interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of his wife shifting position in bed beside him.

"Vernon?" She hissed in her nasal voice. "Are you awake?"

"Yes." He grunted, feeling very irritable.

Petunia sighed. "What do you think has happened to the boy?" She said, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Vernon scoffed. "Didn't think you'd be worrying about him Petunia… he's nothing but a bloody nuisance…. I'll be glad if he never comes back."

"But Vernon… what if the, the… social services find out? We'll be fined…. Put in jail…. Who knows what else?"

Her husband scoffed again, louder this time. "Load of old tosh…. Social services won't come bothering the likes of us Petunia, don't you worry yourself… that boy has given us nothing but grief for the past God knows how long…. No, if you ask me… we're well shot of him. You know what they're like anyway…. His kind…. He'll likely have found someone to take him in… they all band together you know…. Load of weirdo's…. We'll keep well away from them."

Petunia nodded her agreement emphatically, sensing that her husband was near to getting carried away…. It was best to stop him when this happened, if at all possible. They lay in amicable silence for a few moments before Petunia spoke up again anxiously.

"But Vernon…. What about that…that thing in the garage? What are you going to do with it? I won't have it here a day longer you know…. I'm sure it gives me funny looks when I go to hang the washing out, and it won't shut up half the damned time."

Vernon looked aggrieved. "Maybe I'll…. Take it down to the Police station; say I found it…. No…no, I'll just take it somewhere and… set it free, you know, give it it's freedom… it'll probably be glad to be away from those kind of folk you know, probably be doing it a favour." He said, trying to sound convincing.

"But… what if one of the neighbours sees you? That nosy old devil at number 8 never misses a trick, disgraceful I call it, spying on us like that." This was very rich coming from Petunia Dursley, who considered the day a failure if she didn't know every detail of her neighbour's day-to-day lives, right down to what newspaper they read and which supermarket they visited.

Vernon shuddered. He wasn't too keen on the idea of taking the blasted owl anywhere…. He was still sweating when he thought of the reaction he had got when they drew up in the car the previous evening, there had been a considerable amount of curtain twitching going on all down Privet drive when the residents saw Vernon Dursley – a possible contender for the most conservative man in Britain – carrying a full grown, caged snowy owl down his garden path. Vernon had needed a very large whiskey when he got indoors and he had not been able to face going near the rest of his nephew's belongings…. They were still in the back of the car and were likely to remain there for quite some time.

Although it was just after 7 am, the heat in the bedroom was already unbearable – Petunia refused point-blank to have a window open as she was mortally afraid of bats, the fact that she had never even seen one being neither here nor there. Unable to take it anymore, Vernon heaved himself out of bed – not an easy task for a man who was nearing twenty stones in weight – and muttered irritably that he was going for a shower. Sighing heavily to herself, his wife turned over, threw off the duvet and headed out of the door, pulling her dressing gown around herself as she did so. She went downstairs and into the kitchen and began to prepare breakfast for her husband and son – no mean feat. 

*

Some half-hour later, the entire Dursley family were seated around the table in the kitchen. Vernon and Dudley were tucking into large plates of bacon, eggs, tomatoes and fried bread – no matter how hot the weather got, it would not deter Vernon from his cooked breakfast. Petunia was sipping tea from a china cup and craning her neck out of the window, watching Mr Watson from across the street who was innocently mowing his front lawn.

"More bacon!" Dudley demanded loudly.

"Right you are Duddy." His mother replied adoringly. She leapt from her seat and snatched the frying pan from the cooker. She then proceeded to heap a generous helping of bacon onto her son's plate. Dudley started eating again, his table manners as atrocious as ever.

There was relative peace for a few minutes; Vernon and Dudley were always quiet when they were eating. The languid silence was punctuated only by Petunia's occasional comments about the disgraceful way that Mr Watson was mowing his lawn. The calm mood was short lived however as a demented hooting and squawking drifted in through the open kitchen door, disrupting the peace. Vernon leapt from his seat, knocking the remainder of his breakfast over as he did so. "That ruddy owl!" He bellowed, enraged. His mouth was full of fried egg and it sprayed unattractively over the table as he shouted.

Dashing out the door – or at least moving slightly faster than usual – he headed for the garden shed. Flinging the door open, he saw Hedwig inside, showing no sign of being quiet and flapping her wings frantically. She looked disgustedly at Vernon, clearly outraged at the shocking way he had been treating her for the past 12 hours.

"You… you…. You…." Vernon stammered, sounding slightly demented. "You shut up! This minute… that's an order!" 

Hedwig paid him no attention whatsoever and continued making as much noise as possible. Vernon glared at her, out of his mind with rage but having no idea what to do. He gawped at the owl a few moments longer before spinning on his heel and heading back across the garden, slamming the shed door loudly behind him, as if he thought that would have some beneficial effect. Muttering to himself about phoning someone to complain (he had no idea who) he marched back into the kitchen, ready to complain more loudly than ever before to his long-suffering wife. He slammed the kitchen door too, hoping to drown out Hedwig's frantic hooting. Luckily for Petunia, before he could open his mouth the doorbell interrupted him.

"I'll just go and get that dear…. Why don't you have a nice brandy or something… steady your nerves a bit."

Despite the fact that it was still very early in the morning, Vernon took her advice. Sloshing some brandy into his mug (still half-full of tea) he took a long swig. Flinging himself down in his chair, his great purple face looking angrier than ever, he heard his wife's voice drifting down the hallway.

"Mrs Figg!" Petunia sounded surprised. "Why don't you come in?"

Vernon frowned. As if the day wasn't bad enough. Now he would have to put up with that demented old bat from down the road banging on for the next hour about how the price of baked beans had gone up two pence down at the corner shop or something equally tedious.

"Thank you my dear…. This won't take long." A second voice drifted down the corridor.

Dudley looked up from his place at the table where he had just started scoffing a large bowl of sugared cereal, heaped so full it was almost over-flowing.

"That didn't sound like Mrs Figg." He exclaimed, confused.

His father stared at him. "Idiot boy…. It was Mrs Figg if your mother said it was… don't say such stupid things, do you hear me?" With that he heaved himself down the hallway. His son had been right, much as he hated to admit it…. There had been something different about the old woman's voice… as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders and she didn't have to pretend about something anymore…. In spite of himself, he was curious.

Dudley sighed to himself and returned his attention to his cereal. Now that Harry was not here, his father had started picking on him much more… something he didn't like one bit. It would almost be worth having his cousin back if it meant that he wouldn't be the subject of his fathers' jibes anymore. 

In the sitting room, Vernon saw his wife seated on the sofa and Mrs Figg perched on the edge of an armchair. Vernon stared at her curiously… she not only sounded different, she looked different somehow… nothing too noticeable but there was a definite twinkle in her eye that was not usually there. He sat down on the sofa beside his wife and snapped sharply at Mrs Figg.

"Well? What are you here for at this time of the morning? You'd better not be wanting to borrow some milk or anything… we haven't, haven't got any." He said, lying about the milk of course.

Most people would have been astonished and annoyed by this blatant display of rudeness but Mrs Figg merely chuckled and shook her head ruefully at him.

"You really must remember to control that temper Mr Dursley." She said with the utmost politeness. "It is no wonder Harry is always so unhappy here, no wonder at all."

Vernon narrowed his eyes angrily. His mood was not going to be improved by talking about his nephew.

"Just say what you've come to say and go Mrs Figg, if you don't mind… my nephew is of no consequence to you." 

Mrs Figg chuckled again and Vernon felt infuriated.

"If only you knew… your nephew has been my reason for being for the past few years…. Do you have any idea how difficult it has been for me to watch him, stuck here with you? A family of the worst muggles I have ever laid eyes upon."

Vernon narrowed his eyes further, immediately suspicious. Muggle? He had heard that before somewhere and he knew he didn't like being called it one bit. It reminded him somehow of… well…. _That_ kind of person. Then suddenly, awfully, realisation began to dawn on him. His mouth gaped, his shoulders sagged and beads of sweat began to pop out on his forehead as he turned on Mrs Figg.

"You…. You…. You…" Was all he could muster however, before flopping back on the sofa.

"Yes, I." Mrs Figg said calmly. "Am a witch. Albus Dumbledore has had me stay here for the past few years to ensure your nephews protection against dark magic. Let me tell you, it has been no great joy living near people such as yourself. Your stupidity yesterday could very easily have cost Harry his life and it is a great mercy that it did not. I am here to tell you that Harry will not be returning to you this summer. Professor Dumbledore has made provisions for him. I will also, if I may collect Harry's belongings. I believe you have been having some difficulty with an owl?" She looked amused.

Vernon stared. For once in his life he had no idea what to say. Petunia was still smiling benignly, as if she thought the whole thing was some sort of set-up. Vernon was not tongue-tied for long however, heaving himself to his feet, sweating profusely he pushed his great purple face right up to Mrs Figg.

"You disgust me, do you know that? Faffing about all day with magic tricks…. Leaving good, law-abiding citizens like me to do your dirty work?" He hissed, not seeming to be aware that he was making little or no sense.

Mrs Figg smiled and reaching into her pocket she drew out a wand. Calmly but firmly she pointed it at Vernon who backed away looking horrified. "I think you have said enough." She said quietly. "Do not make me do something I will highly regret." Petunia gave a small squeak before promptly fainting. Not seeing anything else for it, Vernon stumbled out of the door and returned some ten minutes later, lugging Harry's trunk behind him and carrying Hedwig's cage in his other hand.

"There." He said, dumping them both in front of Mrs Figg unceremoniously. "Take them, get out and NEVER and I mean NEVER darken my doorstep again." He continued, seething.

Mrs Figg smiled calmly once again and with a flick of her wand the lock on Hedwig's cage sprang open. Hedwig soared joyously out of the open window to the astonished cries of the neighbours. Vernon swayed dangerously and dragged the curtains shut quickly, shielding them from the curious stares of the neighbours. Pointing the wand at the trunk this time, Mrs Figg exclaimed "Reducio!" Promptly the trunk shrunk to the size of a postage stamp. Vernon felt his eyes bulge. "Well Mr Dursley." Mrs Figg said quietly. "I'm very glad to have got all that sorted out…. And so amicably too." A hint of sarcasm crept into her steady voice as she swept from the room. "Goodbye!"

Vernon waited to hear the front door click shut before he bellowed loudly. "DUDLEY! BRING ME THE BRANDY….. THE WHISKEY TOO!" With that he slumped back down onto the sofa, beside his still unconscious wife.

__

A/N: I was going to extend this chapter with the entrance of the Malfoy's but I couldn't resist giving a whole chapter to the ever delightful Dursley family, so The Malfoy's will be making their entrance at the start of the next chapter instead. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.

Just a couple of notes for people, as before.

Sirius Black - Thank you for your positive comments and also for taking the time to have a look at my other fics. Please don't worry about not liking my fic 'The practicalities of potions, it was just an idea that refused to leave me alone so I typed it up and posted it. It has had quite a lot of positive reviews, which surprised me, but I fully appreciate that that sort of fic is not to everyone's tastes! Thank you again for reading and reviewing.

Nuts - Just wanted to say a big thank you to you for your lovely reviews!

Thanks again everyone.

PC


	6. The betrayal.

****

CHAPTER FIVE

The day dawned similarly some miles away in Devon, England. Well, the weather was similar anyway. However, far from being one of the least magically-inclined dwellings in the British Isles (as number four, Privet Drive certainly was), the grand manor house that stood proudly in the heart of the Devonshire countryside was at present one of the most magical places in the country. The building was seeping magical energy from every brick, every window…. Powerful _dark _magic if the truth be known, but magic nonetheless. The inhabitants of this house were well known in the wizarding world, one of the oldest, most respected families around. They went under the name of Malfoy.

A grand, sweeping gravel driveway led up to the massive oak front doors. The house was extremely impressive; there could be no doubt about that. Curious muggles could often be heard talking about it in the nearby village. It was not only the grandest house for miles around; it was also by far the most mysterious. It is well known that there is nothing muggles like more than a mystery and so it came about that Malfoy Manor was one of the most gossiped about places in the county. Many a muggle child had crept up to the large wrought-iron gates with the dragon carved into them. They often swore that the dragon moved, that its eye (which appeared to be set with a ruby) watched you as you drew close to the gate. What made the whole situation more curious was that nobody seemed to be able to open the gates. Whenever they got within touching distance a curious charge appeared to prevent them from going any further. While it is well known that muggles enjoy a mystery, it is equally well known that they do not like to be seen to be at the centre of anything strange. This perhaps explains why the muggles who lived in and around the village of Old Barrow enjoyed gossiping about the mystical Manor House among themselves but whenever an outsider asked a question about it, they clammed up immediately, snapped irritably that the folk who lived there were the dullest, most ordinary people you could ever meet and marched away irritably. Of course, there may well have been a more interesting explanation.

If the people of Old Barrow had been able to venture up the driveway and into the grounds on that particular morning, they would not have seen much out of the ordinary. If however, they had taken the time to look upwards, right up to a fourth floor window, they would have seen a boy with ash-blonde hair sitting on a window seat, his arms folded firmly across his chest, his head leaning against the glass and his grey eyes gazing morosely out over the grounds and across the surrounding countryside. The boys name, although the villagers would not know this – despite having lived practically on the doorstep of the Manor for many years, they had never seen him, or indeed any of the rest of his family – was Draco Malfoy. 

As Draco looked out of the window that morning, one of the very first days of the summer holidays, he found it difficult to put his finger on how he was feeling. He knew that his father would be rapping on his door at any moment demanding that he come downstairs. The trouble was, Draco didn't know whether he wanted to go downstairs at all… not now, maybe not ever. When he thought of them, swarming the house at this very moment with their cold, expressionless faces he felt a strange rush of emotions. _The Death Eaters. _Part of him felt nothing but a cool shiver of excitement, there was no doubt in that, there certainly was something enticing about the death eaters calm superiority, their calculating minds, their power. Draco sighed and wriggled down further into the window seat, trying to get comfortable. The trouble was, nothing in the Manor house was built for comfort, it was built to be admired, to be wondered at by lesser mortals but it wasn't comfortable, it wasn't homely. His mind drifted back to the Death Eaters and he tried desperately to analyse what exactly it was he felt towards them. It wasn't fear although he was sensible enough to see that they could be terrifying. However he had no reason to be afraid of them, he knew they would never hurt him…. He was a Malfoy after all, if anything… most of the Death Eaters should feel respect for him, simply because of the family he had been born into. His stomach wrenched as he realised all at once what the feeling was that had been plaguing him for days, ever since he returned home for the holidays to discover that Malfoy Manor had become the centre of the Death Eaters operations. It was disgust. He shuddered physically with the impact of the realisation. There was no point in feeling this way. Ever since the day he was born it had been his destiny to become a Death Eater, just like his father and all his ancestors before him had done. On his 18th birthday he would be branded with the mark of the Death Eaters, there was little or nothing he could do about it, even if he wanted to. And he wasn't even sure he _did _want to. The thought of becoming a death eater was all he had ever known, all he had ever aspired to and he had no idea what he would do if he did _not_ become one. Draco snorted to himself. It did not matter what he wanted, not at all…. His father would never entertain the idea, not even for a second. Draco felt his stomach filled with cold fear at the very thought of broaching the subject with his father… it was unthinkable. In spite of this, he could not stop the cold nausea from rising up his throat whenever he thought of the Death Eaters in his home. And as for the other guest… he couldn't even bear to think about him… his head filled with disgust as soon as he considered the name of the wizard his father had been so proud to look after for the summer. _Lord Voldemort_.

It might have been a few seconds later, it might have been hours but the next thing Draco was aware of was a sharp rapping on the door of his room and the cold, expressionless voice of his father filtering through the gap under the door.

"Draco? Why have you not come downstairs boy? You are late, have you forgotten what I told you only last night? You must be punctual at all times, it brings disgrace upon you to be late for our Lord and if you bring disgrace upon yourself you bring disgrace upon the family name and that I will not stand for boy, not under any circumstances. So hurry up Draco and don't forget…plain black robes with the family crest on them, do not let anyone forget you are a Malfoy, not even for a second."

Fat chance of that, Draco thought to himself… you only remind me every other minute. Family pride was one of his father's favourite subjects and Draco tended to be treated to a lecture about it every other day at the very least. He toyed rebelliously with the idea of disobeying his father but he knew in the long run that it simply was not worth it. Sighing quietly, he hauled himself grudgingly out of his seat and flung open the door of his wardrobe, with the large dragon carved on the front, coiled around an ornately carved letter M. Taking out his robes, Draco dressed quickly and headed out of the door and down the large, curved marble staircase, into the entrance hallway.

Draco felt himself inhale sharply as he stared around the vast, open hallway. The place was a hive of activity, busier and more full of life than he had ever known it. Usually he would welcome any change in the atmosphere at Malfoy Manor; it was normally so quiet, still and cold that it could easily be compared unfavourably to a morgue. He could not force himself to be glad to see the Death Eaters scurrying back and forth across the hallway however, slamming doors, twisting this way and that, each intent on their own particular duties and giving no heed to each other, or to Draco. The whole effect was sinister somehow and Draco felt himself swallow hard to conquer the wave of nausea that threatened to engulf him as he forced himself to cross the hallway and enter the massive drawing room. He had never liked this room, with its cold stone floor and the walls lined with paintings of stern-faced witches and wizards from various historical periods. The room was un-welcoming and distinctly unfriendly. He had never however, hated it more than he did on that particular sunny, summer morning in July. The huge circular maple table that dominated the room was lined with Death Eaters, talking quietly amongst themselves. Draco knew that these were the Death Eaters of the highest order, those closest to Lord Voldemort himself. The ones dashing around on frantic errands outside were mere minions, just there to do the donkey work. It was in here, amongst these sinister, cold-faced individuals, that the real core of Lord Voldemorts work was planned and exerted. At the head of the table sat Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father. He was looking very pleased with himself; his hard, pale face was lit up with a fire not usually evident as he regarded his son closely.

"Good morning my boy." He said quietly.

"Good morning father." Draco said quietly, his throat tight as he greeted his father with the courtesy that had been drummed into him since he was a toddler.

Lucius cleared his throat loudly as he addressed the Death Eaters, who immediately fell silent, as he began to speak.

"As I told you, Draco was feeling quite unwell earlier this morning and that is of course why he did not join us for breakfast with our lord." He glared at Draco dangerously, as though daring him to disagree or say anything to the contrary. Draco recognised the glint in his fathers' eye and remained silent allowing Lucius to continue.

"I believe some of you." He paused and glanced around at the surrounding Death Eaters with the same dangerous glance he had directed at his son. "Believed that he did not _want_ to join us. I hope that you have been satisfactorily proved wrong and that you will not have cause to doubt my word again."

The Death Eaters murmured clumsily and Draco only caught snippets of what they were saying, things like;

'I don't know what you mean Lucius.'

'Not even for a moment…. No idea where you got that idea.'

'_I _certainly never thought anything of the kind.'

Lucius listened to their explanations quietly for a few seconds before he held up his hand for silence, smirking cruelly, apparently satisfied.

"That will do." He said quietly. He gestured for Draco to join them at the table. Draco took a seat next to the largest of the group, who's name he knew to be Mcnair. Draco was unable to stop himself shuddering as he settled uncomfortably into his chair. He had never liked Mcnair; he was a strange looking man in his early 40's with a twisted nose and cold, blue eyes. He was very tall and built somewhat like a tank. His breath came in loud rasps, he seemed incapable of regulating it and Draco wrinkled his nose as he inhaled, Mcnair's breath did not smell pleasant at all.

Lucius glared meaningfully at his son and Draco forced his lips into a tight smile. It was very difficult; his entire face was quivering with the effort. What he wanted more than anything was to bolt from the room as fast as his legs would carry him and never return. He remained in his seat however, painfully aware that the Death Eaters were staring at him curiously. He was careful not to look any of them in the eye as his father began to speak again.

"I have called you all here this morning for a short meeting so that you know what is going to be happening today. Lord Voldemort has a plan that involves my son and he wishes for me to bring Draco to him so we may discuss the matter."

The Death Eaters murmured uncertainly, there did not seem to be much point to this meeting and they had a strong suspicion that Lucius had brought them here merely for the chance to brag. They all began to stare at Draco with a kind of quiet awe. Draco was feeling very sick and dizzy by this point. What could Voldemort possibly want with him? He could think of nothing he wanted to do less than meet with the Dark Lord this morning, in fact ever.

"I trust you are pleased Draco?" Lucius hissed in a low, even voice. "To be included in our Lords plans at this age is a great honour indeed, especially considering the extent you are to be involved."

Draco forced himself to swallow hard and regain his composure a little before he replied, his voice shaking. "Y-Yes Father." He hoped desperately that his father would not expect him to elaborate, he felt sure that he would be sick if he opened his mouth again. Fortunately, Lucius seemed satisfied with his pitiful reply. He was beaming round at the Death Eaters looking very pleased with himself.

"Come now boy." He beckoned to Draco, who rose out of his chair numbly and followed his father unseeingly from the room. Lucius lead the way through into the next chamber and down a narrow flight of stairs, lined with yet more family portraits. The air was growing colder as they descended deeper and deeper into the Manor, further down than Draco had ever dared to venture, than he ever wanted to venture….he knew where they were going. It had to be the dungeons. His father kept up a steady stream of words, hissed in his ear as they walked swiftly along, threatening words, warning him to behave, to be polite, to not speak unless he was spoken to. Draco did not need to hear any of this, it all went without saying. He felt sicker than ever as the finally reached the end of the flight of stairs and were faced with a large door, fashioned entirely of solid stone, again with a dragon carved in the centre, this time with an emerald set carefully for the eye.

Lucius pushed the door open a crack and Draco felt as though the bottom had fallen out of his stomach as his father called out softly.

"My Lord? Are you ready for us now?"

A low hiss of a voice followed in reply.

"Lucius…. You are late, slippery one… you know how I like you to be punctual."

Lucius started to stammer an apology and Draco gazed up at him, dumbfounded. He had never seen his father grovel like this before… it was unpleasant and slightly disconcerting.

The voice echoed from behind the door.

"Say no more… enter if you will… I trust you have brought the boy?"

"Yes master." Lucius said gratefully, dragging Draco roughly by the arm over the thresh-hold and into the dungeon beyond.

Squinting in the dim light, Draco's first impression was of a large, empty roughly-built chamber, not unlike Snape's dungeon at Hogwart's only this was much larger, grander. Dragons were carved on every inch of the walls, cut into the stone; all manners of precious jewels glinted where their eye-sockets would have been. The effect was somewhat ostentatious but grand and impressive nonetheless. At the head of the room, Lord Voldemort sat in a roughly carved stone chair, a low table in front of him. Nagini, his beloved snake writhed peacefully on the floor nearby. Draco felt his knees wobble violently as Voldemort turned to them with a cruel smile. 

"It is good to see you Draco…. I have heard much about you but I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting before."

Draco did not reply until his father nudged him viciously in the back. Even after that sharp reminder he could only manage a stammered reply. "N-No…Lord Voldemort." 

Voldemort smiled more widely. "I see you are still learning the art of discipline and obedience boy."

Lucius stumbled forward, it looked as though he was going to apologise for Draco but Voldemort held up a thin white hand to stop him

"Say nothing Lucius, there is no need…. I had all the vivaciousness and disregard for authority myself once, as I believe you did?"

Lucius nodded uncertainly.

"Now… where are my manners? Will you both sit down?" Voldemort went on, gesturing to two chairs facing him.

"Thank you." Lucius said, dragging Draco across the room and fairly forcing him down into one of the chairs. Draco had to hold his legs firmly with his hands to disguise the fact that he was trembling violently.

"Now that we are comfortable, I shall tell you my plan." Voldemort said quietly, his thin fingers clasped in front of him.

Draco privately felt that he had never felt less comfortable in his life but he dared not speak as the Dark Lord went on.

"You know I believe about what happened at the end of last term between myself and Harry Potter?"

Lucius lowered his head, as though ashamed but Draco found himself nodding uncertainly as Voldemort looked at him closely.

"Yes… I thought so. I have devised another plan to end that dratted boy's life once and for all, a plan that cannot fail, a plan that will take place here, in this very labyrinth of dungeons."

Draco stared, confused… not knowing what this could possibly have to do with him. 

Voldemort spoke again, very simply, as though what he was saying was only a minor detail. "I need your help in getting the boy here…here to meet his downfall."

Draco continued to stare, not quite sure what Voldemort was suggesting. He disliked Harry certainly, hated him even… but he was not at all sure that he wanted to be directly involved in Harry's death.

If Voldemort noticed anything strange about Draco's expression, he did not say anything about it, he merely continued speaking in the same cold, level voice that chilled Draco right to the very bone.

"It is an intricate plan and it will be dangerous, there is no doubt about that… it will involve taking a measure of polyjuice potion and taking the form of someone dear to the Potter boy to lure him here…. You will I trust, be willing to co-operate?" He looked harshly at Draco, his terrifying red eyes ablaze.

Lucius was nodding violently but Draco remained still and silent, until suddenly he felt something prod him in the back of the neck. _His fathers wand_. He convulsed with fear as he felt his head being forced to nod up and down vigorously. 

"Good…. Good." Voldemort murmured. "But I sense some resistance… some uncertainty…. Perhaps a small incentive is needed…"

Lucius' face hardened at this point as though he knew what was coming but he didn't want to see it. Voldemort extended a long finger and muttered something incomprehensible under his breath. Immediately a figure began to take shape directly before them, a person, bound and gagged, their eyes rolling in terror. Draco saw his father open his mouth slightly and dig his fingers into his thigh as though he was desperate to say something but knew that he could not. The figure materialised fully before them and it took Draco only a split-second to realise who it was there, terrified out of their mind.

"M-Mum?" He stammered. Feeling a tear run down his cheek he ran over to his mother but as soon as he got near, he was thrown backwards. He landed in a crumpled heap at his father's feet. Without stopping to think, he flung himself at Lucius, quite mad with rage, yelling, punching and kicking his father for all he was worth.

"How could you?" He screamed. "You've given her over… to him…. To use as bait?" Suddenly he felt himself being forced back down into his chair; he heard only the sound of Voldemort's high, cruel laughter as his mother vanished. His father stared hard at the floor, not seeming to want to look either his son or Lord Voldemort in the eye. Draco felt his sides heave with anger and emotion as he was forced to face Voldemort who was still laughing.

"I thought that my little surprise might help to convince you…. Lucius has proved more willing to help than I dared to hope…. Now Draco…. What is it to be? Will you co-operate and allow me to return your mother to you unscathed or will you defy me and see her die?"

There was only one possible answer. Draco summoned every ounce of courage that he had to force himself to reply in a steady voice. "I'll do it."

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A/N: Thank you for the reviews, more soon.


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